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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288447">Forgive Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov'>TatyanaIvanshov</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Versailles (TV 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apologies, Cute little piece, Drabble, Forgiveness, I am procrastinating, M/M, Music, Piano, idk i just felt like it, overly poetic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:20:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chevalier returns to Monsieur's bed chambers to retrieve his favorite hairbrush after an argument but finds his lover playing the piano...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Forgive Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OKAY, I KNOW THIS IS HISTORICALLY INACCURATE BECAUSE GRAND PIANOS WEREN'T TECHNICALLY INVENTED YET BUT I'M ONLY OFF BY A FEW DECADES SO STFU AND ENJOY.</p><p>Also, yes, I'm procrastinating on writing Modern Monchevy but I got inspired and just scribbled this out in like a few minutes lol. Very poetic, I know. I'm practically Oscar Wilde.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silence. </p><p>The halls of Versailles were tranquil- a somber nature made its presence known through whoos of chilly wind and pale, illuminating moonlight that flooded the dark crevices of every corridor. The cold stone walls, decorated with frescos and gold that draped every inch of the palace shimmered under the faint candlelight, warm unlike that of the moon, lazily lighting certain rooms and halls.</p><p>Music.</p><p>If you approach the Orléans Apartments, and you listen close enough, you can hear it, the faint sound of music in the drowned distance. You must walk softly, for your footsteps may drown out the faint notes but as you approach, it is those notes that will drown out your footsteps, and the dark undertones of the piano keys will come to light. Angry and melancholic, just like the player himself. </p><p>Le Chevalier de Lorraine made his way through the halls, into the familiar bed chambers he knew all too well. The sound of music filled the room, keys coming to a gradual high as they were frantically played. He followed the notes, careful not to disrupt with the sound of his heels against icy floors and as he walked into the room that was bursting with the vigor of the masterfully played melody, he no longer felt the frosty chill of the palace walls. </p><p>Though riled and frenzied, the song still held a certain gloom to it, as if misery was weaved with frustration to lace and create a certain allure. He had always been attracted to the most tortured souls and the one he laid eyes upon, sitting at the piano was the most tortured of them all. Dainty fingers were firm as they pressed every key with vigor he knew the man possessed and as he watched him, dark raven hair cascading down his shoulders in waves, dressed in only a pale linen shirt and breeches, he was reminded of all reasons why he loved this man with all his being. </p><p>He marveled at his beauty. He truly looked like an angel at times and the Chevalier was all but gone, smitten and lovestruck by every bit of Monsieur. Who knew the brother of The Sun King shone brighter than his Majesty himself? Who knew he could rule the night so effortlessly, like a saint, bestowing upon mortals merely the gift of his own beauty?</p><p>The Chevalier listened to the music soften, the Prince’s shoulder slumping as well as the notes got higher in pitch. Then lower. Then, a twirl of fingers to fill the air with the most delightful sounds as candlelight kept the ambiance consistently intimate.</p><p>It was clear the Duc d’Orléans had noticed his lover’s presence, as he straightened his back and the sound of the keys got more meticulous and sharp, almost angry and it told the Chevalier all he needed to know- the Prince was still bitter over their earlier quarrel when the blonde had stormed off. The Chevalier thought he was as well and only intended returning to grab his favorite hairbrush, but as he studied him playing so, with such emotion in every key, he remembered. He remembered every reason he vowed to never leave this man’s side, every reason that brought him to his knees with utter adoration for him, every reason he was willing to risk his own life simply to be at the Prince’s side. It was clear to him, not a speck of doubt clouding his vision. </p><p>He approached. </p><p>The music grew powerful.</p><p>The Chevalier stood behind the Prince and reached out to find with a single finger a raven curl on the other man’s shoulder, like velvet under his tender touch. He pushed it to the side but it was not enough. His fingertips ran up the curtain of hair that shielded his face and with an amorous caress, he brushed away curls behind his shoulder to reveal incredible pale skin, glowing under faint lighting.</p><p>The music softened as if about to disappear entirely.</p><p>The Prince’s tear-stained eyes still glistened but his tense muscles relaxed at the kind-hearted hand of his lover. He exhaled, allowing his eyes to fall shut as the Chevalier’s fingers found the back of his neck, a thumb meeting his skin in a gentle brush.</p><p>Another twirl of the fingers at the keys. He did not let the song end.</p><p>The young Knight took a seat next to the Prince on the stool, neither attempting a gaze, but instead, studying carefully the keys as the Chevalier’s hand reached to brush over the white and black. He waited. This melody was familiar to him. He recalled it so well from when he was younger and again from the many nights he and Monsieur spent dancing in the ballrooms of the palace, ignoring such cruel whispers from courtiers around them.</p><p>He joined in. </p><p>His own notes were not as sharp, but instead apologetic and, in turn, forgiving. He played them so masterfully, that the raven-haired man envied the effortless elegance his lover possessed. Together, they reached a crescendo, a powerful high that had their fingers aching with hastiness as they struggled to keep up with the other. </p><p>Until it soothed once more. </p><p>Neither spoke as they played their last notes, bodies at such proximity, the Chevalier could feel whatever little heat radiated off of Monsieur’s slender figure. He fed off of it. </p><p>And at last, once more, silence. </p><p>Neither moved, too afraid of the consequences of their actions if they crossed a line, unsure of where they stood. The Chevalier’s eyes fell upon his lover’s hand. It briefly trembled as it rested on the white bones of the instrument, decorated with rings that matched his own and lace cuffs. It was small and ready to be taken into his own. He did. His fingers wrapped around his lover’s hand and he took his time to caress the supple skin with a dancing thumb, a touch he knew Monsieur melted into. </p><p>“Forgive me,” The Chevalier whispered, his eyes trailing up to his lover’s sorrowful ones. He wanted nothing more than to scoop him into his arms where no one could hurt him, especially not Lorraine himself, and kiss away every bruise he carried upon his magnificent body. God, how he loved this man. He was his peace, his joy, his greatest tormenter yet the sweetest heaven. If loving him was a sin, the world did not deserve their love. If craving this Prince with everything he held was going to cast them to hell, he would gladly burn with him for an eternity, only for this one life in their own heaven. This was it, there was no other. There was no woman or man that could take the place of the other. Now and forever, they were bound to one another. </p><p>The Prince sighed, his shoulder slumping in defeat as if giving in to his most deadly temptation. But simultaneously, as if everything he had longed for was, at last, coming true. He reached his head and nuzzled it upon the Chevalier’s broad shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut as if peace had enveloped him. </p><p>“Never do it again,” He mumbled in a voice so shaky, the blonde feared he may break down into tears at any moment. The Knight adjusted on the seat, scooting closer and a hand wrapped around the Prince to pull him closer, a gentle hand going to his head to hold in place as he pressed his lips against the raven hair that smelled of lilac and every summer day. </p><p>The Prince smiled and wrapped an arm around his lover’s waist, cozy in the protective man’s embrace. Oh, how the Chevalier loved when he could wrap around him and know he was shielding him from every bullet this life could shoot their way. He was eager and willing, his own life meant merely nothing to him when it came to the Prince’s. It was an ache in his chest he had never before felt with another, one that brought him more joy than all the riches and power in the world ever could. </p><p>“I promise.” The Chevalier’s cheek pressed against Monsieur’s forehead and he shut his eyes as well. </p><p>He felt full. When he held onto him so and their bodies fit together as if made for such an embrace, all was right in the world. He was complete.</p>
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